


the chances are we've gone too far

by pinuspinea



Series: Swan Lake remixes [9]
Category: Swan Lake & Related Fandoms, Лебединое озеро - Чайковский | Swan Lake - Tchaikovsky
Genre: Abandonment, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Retellings, Father-Daughter Relationship, Forced Marriage, Growing Up, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinuspinea/pseuds/pinuspinea
Summary: Odile finds her voice on the shore and reminds everyone that a vow of eternal love means too much to be ignored.
Relationships: Odette/Von Rothbart (Lebedínoye Ózero | Swan Lake), Odile/Prints Siegfried | Prince Siegfried (Lebedínoye Ózero | Swan Lake)
Series: Swan Lake remixes [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824241
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	the chances are we've gone too far

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swan Lake comment club](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Swan+Lake+comment+club).



> Oh boy, this one was a struggle. Something in the Danish Ballet's ending is just really hard to come to terms with, especially with these particular versions of the characters.

In the flurry of white feathers and sharp movements, Odile stares at the boy in front of her and feels a sharp stab of pain inside, pain that makes her gasp for breath, pain that makes her realise what she almost did.

"Wait," she cries out. Everything around her stops. The swan maidens stare at her, her mother stares at her, her father stares at her, and even the prince stares at her. In her anger and betrayal, Odile searches for her father until she meets his eye. "He swore a vow of eternal love, didn't he?"

"He did," her father murmurs and looks thoughtful. The prince, caught in the sharp talons of the swan maidens, is at a loss and looks like he has no idea how close to death he came.

Her father walks across the yard until he reaches the shore, and the swan maidens wait for his command. Siegfried is let free with a flick of a wrist and he looks at von Rothbart in confusion. Odette's dress rustles as she moves, but without her jewels, there is nothing to separate her from the swan maidens other than the doubt on her face.

"That's too much to be ignored, isn't it?" Odile asks, uncertain of these things. Her father has taught her many things, but the magic of such declarations has been a sore spot for him. Odile hasn't pushed for more explanation, but now she wishes she had.

Her father looks like he is calculating something, but he eventually lowers a hand on Odile's shoulder.

"It is too much to be ignored," he states eventually. Odile meets Siegfried's eyes. The prince swallows thickly, and suddenly, he sees Odile properly and shivers at the sight of a girl dressed in black and rubies instead of a woman in white.

* * *

The confusion is palpable when they return. Odile is still wearing the dress she was so happy to pull on just a few hours earlier, and now she wishes she could just forget the party and everything that happened, but it isn't possible.

She's curled up inside her father's cloak and refuses to look at either man sitting opposite to her in the carriage, and when they stop and step into the hustle and bustle of people, she keeps her mouth shut.

Her father is already weaving a web of half-truths and explaining their sudden disappearance. Siegfried remains mute and pale, and Odile feels sick to her stomach. It's difficult to be there, in front of all those people, when she can only think about how her life has been irrevocably changed.

The news of their engagement spread like a wildfire of whispers. People wonder why the prince has chosen her, the girl who is barely old enough to marry, the girl dressed in black and never before seen at the court, but some seem to be thinking about approaching her. Eventually, the prince comes to her and offers her a glass of sparkling wine, and she accepts it gracefully.

It's a horribly awkward silence that exists between the two of them. Odile longs for sleep and a soft bed, but she also knows now is not the time to disappear. Her eyes glance in the direction of her father and she wonders how long she will have to last here.

"He seems to know exactly what to say," Siegfried says eventually. He seems till shocked to his core, like he hasn't come to terms with this evening either.

Odile realises they both have been betrayed by her father and her mother. Siegfried at least doesn't seem to realise that quite yet. He hasn't caught on to the subtleties of the situation, but Odile has.

She always knew her father was conniving and scheming, but she never expected to be thrust into his plans like this.

"Papa's always had a way with words," Odile admits and takes a sip of wine. Already people seem to be accepting the situation. Her father is smoothing ruffled feathers and making certain that none of the foreign guests take offense at the prince choosing a bride from a minor local family that not many even know much about. Siegfried's hasty declaration could cause much damage, but her father knows how to protect his family.

Odile wishes they could talk, that he could explain things to her, but that isn't possible right now, and she already suspects that later he won't have the chance to.

Siegfried is looking at her, seemingly trying to differentiate her from all the swan maidens and her mother. The differences are subtle, but they are there. The hair and eye colour are the most telling signs, and the slight bit of colour on her skin compared to her mother's pale complexion, but they are all much the same.

Odile never thought she'd ever come to resent that fact.

"What's your name?" he eventually asks her. She glances at him and downs the rest of her drink.

"Odile von Rothbart," she tells it. Siegfried nods mutely and glances at her father. There is something that he seems to want to ask, but he doesn't.

They stand there awkwardly, not speaking, simply watching the guests as they gossip with one another and glance in their direction every now and then.

Eventually, her father manages to slip away for a minute. He looks like he is starting to regret his words and acknowledging the weight of Siegfried's promise if Odile knows him at all, and the hardness around his eyes and the smile that is all teeth and no eyes is more than enough to give her a clue.

"You two should really act more excited," he murmurs to them and glances meaningfully at Siegfried. "At least dance once or twice, if you find it so difficult to speak cordially."

"What's going on?" Siegfried whispers his worried question. Her father leans over and looks the poor boy straight in the eye.

"Siegfried, for once in your damned life, act like you know what you are doing," her father hisses back. "You can ask your questions later, but not while all these unsuspecting people could overhear you and come to very unflattering conclusions."

Siegfried flinches. Odile, the braver of the two, leans on his arm and looks at him.

"Just dance and smile," she tells him in a low voice as her father returns to wooing and fooling people.

And Siegfried obeys and takes her to the dancefloor, and they waltz near to each other just like some hours earlier, but now everything has changed. Odile no longer feels like she is gliding in a dream, and Siegfried no longer looks at her with open adoration, but a hint of wariness in his bright eyes.

They dance until their feet hurt too much, and then, finally, they leave the party.

* * *

They have breakfast together the next morning after spending a few hours alone. Odile idly stirs sugar into her tea and wonders where her father must be before concluding that he still must be working his magic to save their reputation.

It's a breakfast marked by awkwardness and the prince stealing glances at her whenever he thinks she doesn't see. Her father must have flown to their house in the middle of the night to get her a change of clothing, because there is no other way her usual day dress would otherwise have appeared in the guestroom for her to put on.

The prince seems to be struggling with seeing her like now, dressed in clothes so dark and atypical of girls her age.

"Is that a mourning dress?" he eventually asks her. Odile takes another sip of tea.

"It was the easiest lie to tell," she says. "The easiest way to keep others away from the lake."

He takes in a shaky breath as he looks at her properly for the first time this morning.

"What is the truth?" Siegfried asks. "What is the story?"

Odile considers the question for a long moment.

"Once upon a time," she eventually says, "once so long ago that most people have forgotten such a time ever existed, there was a girl and there was a sorcerer who fell in love with her. He did not fall in love with her beauty, but he fell in love with her smile and her laughter and the way she spoke, with her dreams and her way of seeing the world. He was so in love with her that he had to have her as his wife, but she wasn't ready to marry quite yet, and in his anger, he cast a spell that could only be broken once the girl married him."

Odile is quiet for a moment. She finally understands why her mother fled that night, why she did not want to marry her father. She finally knows how it feels like to be thrust into such a complicated mess without any warning, but there is no spell to liberate Odile from Siegfried's promise or force him into becoming something else.

"He loved her even when she became more and more like a swan," Odile continues in her quiet voice. "Even when she didn't love him back. Even when they had a child and she chose to stay as a swan rather than to become like any other mother is."

So long she has wanted to tell that story to someone else, and now her listener remains slumped in his chair, mute and thinking of the horror of the tale.

Siegfried opens his mouth many times, and just as many times he closes it with a snap. Odile sits there, stirring her tea until the warmth can no longer hide away the bitterness, and thinks about her mother not as she has known Odette her entire life, but as she must have been once. She wonders what was so alluring about her that her father could not resist it, and she wonders if all the women in her family will be subjected to that same fate.

Her father certainly does not seem angry about her getting married in this young an age, but then again, he's most likely lost perspective on youth during his long life.

Idly, Odile wonders how her mother will react to this all, and suddenly, she is hit by such a burst of longing that for a moment in almost suffocates her.

"How long has she been at the lake?" Siegfried eventually asks in a shaky voice. "Your mother?"

Odile shrugs.

"Long enough that her old home is nothing more than overgrown ruins and that people have forgotten about the village that used to be by the lake," she tells the prince. "Long enough that stories of a girl disappearing on a moonlit night and her soul remaining as a swan on the lake have disappeared."

They're both quiet for a long time after that. Odile abandons her half-drunk tea and starts to pace the room.

"I don't blame you," Odile eventually says. Siegfried looks at her. "For mixing us up. For wanting to believe in a fairy tale. I've wanted to believe in a happy ending myself."

"But you don't believe in it anymore," the prince observes in a soft voice. Odile gives him a smile that is all wrong.

"There are no happy endings for people like us, Siegfried," he tells the boy with a beautiful smile and kind eyes. "Not for birds that will always be caged by one thing or another."

* * *

She returns home with her father. The carriage ride allows her to gaze at the woods and to let her thoughts wander, but eventually, they reach the house and her father rouses her from her daydreams. He seems pensive and he looks at her with cautious eyes, but Odile gives him half a smile.

"I think I need some time alone with mama," Odile murmurs. Her father nods.

"I'll leave you alone, then," he smiles back, but his eyes betray his worry.

Odile makes her way to the shore, the soft sand between the neat plantations of their garden and the carefree waves of the lake, and she watches the swans. The afternoon sun hangs low and makes the crystalline water drops on her mother's feathers seem almost like the jewels they are in her other form.

The air is thick with summer heat and Odile instinctively knows that tonight will bring a magnificent thunderstorm. She can almost imagine her mother's quiet voice over the sound of rumbling and the dark, rolling clouds hanging low overhead.

The swans reach the shore. The sun sets.

Her mother doesn't turn into a human.

Odile stares blankly at the flock as they take back to water, at the swan queen in the middle of it all, and cold creeps underneath her skin. She swallows thickly and looks at the swans, and a flurry of magic gives her wings and a black coat.

She tries to swim to them, but they do not let her come close, pecking her with their sharp beaks, and she gets away.

Her father finds her crying in the reeds, her dress torn, her body bruised and bleeding, and he looks at the swans before wrapping Odile in a tight hug and crying bitter tears of his own. In the reeds, they mourn. In the reeds, he heals her, and slowly, they return to the shore and then to the garden.

Both gaze over to the lake and look at the swan queen, gently floating on the waves in the light of moon, and the holes in their hearts feel impossible to fill.

"I don't know if she can't become a human anymore or if she doesn't want to," her father says. His voice breaks towards the end. Odile covers her mouth with her hand and looks away. He knows his magic the best, but it's horrible to consider both options.

Did Odile make this happen? Is this the cost of not killing Siegfried, the price of wanting to keep her innocence? Does her mother now hate her?

For the first time in her life, Odile feels like she cannot control anything in her life: not magic, not the swan maidens, not her fate. And she wishes she could do something, but neither she nor her father knows what could be done, so they go inside and huddle alone in their rooms and try to imagine a world where they have not lost Odette.

* * *

The wedding preparations of a girl without a mother are much the same as they would be for anyone marrying a prince and getting crowned a queen. It is a strange new world for Odile with all new people, and she aches for her home and the comforting afternoons spent lounging on the shores or walking in the garden or enjoying one of the many books her father owns.

Her father is a solemn and silent support for her even when they both mourn for Odette. There is much heartache in every breath and movement, in every action and thought left unsaid. For everyone else, they tell that her mother has died. Even Siegfried gets the same lie, though Odile is not certain whether he believes it.

Whenever she is home with her father, his eyes are always searching for the swan queen, for the woman who will never return to her human form again.

Odile does not go close to the lake ever again. She keeps to the house, avoiding the shores and the garden and the forest. It's easier that way to not be reminded of the things she has lost. It's easier that way to not feel like her mother has abandoned her.

Sometimes she wonders if Odette remembers ever having been a human. Every day she becomes more and more swanlike, and every day she shows no sign of returning to what Odile knew before to be true.

But she's not at the house so much that she would have time to think about her miserable faith that much. More often than not, she is meeting seamstresses or discussing decorations, spending time with Siegfried and the dowager queen, being prepared for her future role as a queen. Only Siegfried knows that she has it in her blood just like he has. Odile accepts this new role with barely an acknowledgement, simply wallowing deep in her thoughts.

Her father sometimes looks at her with tired eyes, but even he keeps his mouth shut.

* * *

On the day of her wedding, she gets dressed alone. Her dress is made of the finest silk and makes her look like all the paintings at the palace.

The dress is white. It is the first white dress she has ever worn in her life, and when she looks at herself and meets her eye in the mirror, at first she thinks she is looking at her mother, but then the image sharpens. Her cheekbones are much too sharp, her eyes too dark, her hair not the wild mess as her mother's hair. She is too put-together, too polished compared to the wild beauty of her mother, the temptation of untamed nature presented in everything Odette is.

There is a knock to the door. Her father enters after her quiet call and stops in the doorway. He looks at her and pain flashes in his eyes so sharply she is surprised that it takes a while for the tears to gather in his eyes.

"You look lovely," he says as he meets her eyes in the mirror. _You look so much like your mother_ , he doesn't say because they both know it.

Odile shivers a little and bites her lip.

"Will you still be there?" she asks her father, suddenly afraid. Before she has managed to distract herself from the fact that she is going to be Siegfried's wife, that she will leave childhood behind and the house that was her entire world for so many years.

"Of course," he promises with a smile that tells her more than he would show to anyone else. He isn't leaving her alone. He can't imagine such a world, not so soon after them both losing Odette, not while the wounds in their hearts still ache.

She puts on the crown of gold and rubies and lets her father help her with the white veil shading her face, and then they leave the room.

During the carriage ride to the church, she closes her eyes and thinks about the wind underneath her wings, of her feathers spreading wide open, of the waves that carried her and the webbed feet that used to propel her onwards.

She is a sight to the curious onlookers. No bride before her has worn a white dress like hers or had rubies for decoration. No bride before her has had red carnations to decorate them, but Odile cannot imagine herself acting like any other bride.

Her father is dressed in dark colours and gives her hand a comforting squeeze, and then, he lets her go and sets her hand to rest on Siegfried's.

Her face is stoic at the end of her childhood and the first day of the rest of her life, and her voice is clear as she declares her willingness. Siegfried looks at her and pulls the veil off her face, and they kiss.

Odile does not meet his eye as they are declared husband and wife, nor does she meet his eye when her veil is removed to make room for the coronet.

The cloak is heavy on her shoulders, but nowhere near the stifling weight of her loss.

* * *

The wedding party is exhausting. Odile does her best to give her kindest smiles and to act as would be expected of a newly crowned queen, but at one point, she can no longer take it. That is why she slips away from the party onto the terrace where she is blessedly alone. Inside, musicians play cheerful dances. It reminds her of the night of the ball, the night when her life changed irrevocably.

Tonight, people keep expecting so much from her and she is tired. She wishes she could return home to the lake with her father, but that won't be possible. This castle is now her home. She belongs here now, not to the lake.

The moon is bright and round. Odile studies the night skies, hidden by some plant life and a few shadows that cloak her, but no one could mistake her for someone else. The crown and the white dress ensure it.

Her peace and quiet is interrupted by another body slipping through the terrace doors and heading to that same hideout. Siegfried stops on his tracks as he sees her, and for a moment they simply stare at one another before he sighs. She gathers her skirts and makes some room for him.

Siegfried settles silently next to her, and the silence is deafening.

"Parties not your favourite thing?" she asks laconically. He glances at her and shakes his head.

"No, not really," he murmurs and twists his hands. "I would have thought you'd like them enough to not disappear while they are celebrating you."

Odile studies the stars for a moment and thinks about all those nights when she used to look at them and not feel horribly alone. She thinks about those nights when her mother took her to sites of her childhood, of those nights when she whispered all kinds of secrets to her mother and trusted her to keep them. Only the stars remain. Her mother is gone, and so is her childhood.

"It's the second party I've ever been to," Odile says quietly, "and I don't think I like parties that much after all."

She was so excited about the ball, and now she cannot even fake being excited about being married, but Siegfried is not that happy about their marriage either. They both know it is a sham based on his mistaken words, a sham they have to follow through because vows of eternal love are too much to ignore even though the vow was not meant for her.

Odile knows magic, has known it her entire life. She knows that were she to ignore Siegfried's words, only madness and misery would follow her.

They don't speak after that. There is nothing left to say. They simply sit next to each other and look at the clear night sky and try to find comfort in one another and that shared moment of reprieve from the world.

* * *

It takes a while to get to know her husband better than simply as a foolish prince. Odile is often quiet, but she is also observant. She lets others talk, and she lets them think that she is simply a pretty thing that barely has a mind of her own.

She watches and waits and behaves herself, and slowly, people start to forget she is the daughter of Siegfried's dearest tutor. They let themselves be fooled by her meek behaviour and think of her as the poor girl who had to rush to her mother to tell her the news of her engagement before her mother passed away tragically.

Odile watches and learns the names of everyone at the palace, and slowly, she gets to learn what kind of a man she is married to.

He finds her one day in the palace library. It's nowhere near the glory of her father's library, but there are enough books there to satisfy her for now. Siegfried hides behind shelves for quite some time, and Odile lets him do so. It's easier to let him come to her, easier to not push him. He needs to be at ease. Odile's already learned to know him better than most of the fools that try to speak with him.

Eventually, he comes out of his hiding place and sits down opposite to her. Odile finishes the page before looking at him.

"Is everything alright?" he asks. The anxiety in him is palpable for her. She can see the knots in his shoulders, hear the tightness of his voice. Others don't see it, but then again, Odile is used to reading the gestures of swans and understanding the messages left to her without a single word spoken aloud.

"Why wouldn't it be?" she throws the question back at him. He frowns and looks at her. He's not as big of a fool as he thinks he is, but that doesn't make him a smart man. He still has much to learn. He is still just a boy, and she is still just a girl.

"I don't know," he mumbles and shifts on his seat, looking a bit ashamed.

Odile feels a sharp pang of guilt as she looks at Siegfried. She sighs.

"I'm worried," she eventually admits. Siegfried meets her eyes and frowns.

"About what?"

Odile searches for words for a long moment. They come fleeting, unwilling, like a half-wild beast that no longer recognises what it used to know, just like her mother.

"Papa," Odile murmurs. "He's not handling the loss of mama that well."

Siegfried's mouth opens a little.

"Do you know why?" he asks a little dumbly. Odile sighs deeply.

"I think it's because you swore that you'd break her spell and then you betrayed your word. It doesn't matter, though. She remains a swan."

"She remains a swan," Siegfried murmurs.

Odile looks at her hands and stops them from shaking before Siegfried notices anything.

"Never transformed again," is the only answer she manages to give.

* * *

Even when nothing changes at the lake, the time still passes. When Odile returns home and settles on the shores of the lake, everything seems just like before, like nothing has changed at all, but she is different and so is the world. Her clothes are exquisitely beautiful, she has all the joys of the world at her hands, but nothing remains of what she used to love so dearly.

Her father finds her there eventually, and together, they study the swans. Odile thinks of the times when she used to transform herself, those days when magic felt like a gift instead of a curse, and she thinks about Siegfried, the man, the king, the father of her children.

Today, she doesn't love him. Today, her heart is too bitter, still aches for a childhood that ended so abruptly and a mother that no longer remembers her, but tomorrow, she'll return to him and feel love again.

"Will she ever transform again?" Odile finally asks of her father. His eyes are dark and sorrowful as they search for the swan queen that has lost all her glimmering qualities and become one of the swans, a swan queen that fades away with each passing day, but he still recognises her, always recognises her.

"Perhaps one day," he murmurs, "one day when this all is but a distant dream."

Perhaps one day her mother will transform again, still that girl who is always just a step away from marriage, but never a bride, and that day, perhaps Odile will be an old woman worn down by life and all its sorrows.

Odile imagines such a time, and she wonders if her mother will ever get to meet her and Siegfried's children.


End file.
